


Pretenders

by swanxlake



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, The Golden Company (ASoIaF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23997676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanxlake/pseuds/swanxlake
Summary: A Great Council is called to determine who will succeed King Maekar I Targaryen. Aenys Blackfyre tries to stake his claim, but Bloodraven won't have it. Daemon Blackfyre won't stand idly by while Brynden puts yet another member of his family to the sword, though...(This is my own version of events of Aenys Blackfyre's execution, told through the eyes of my oc, a young woman who's a member of House Rosby.)
Kudos: 10





	Pretenders

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the #MasqueBallChallenge on the Thrones Amino, which won me first place. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> For anyone curious, this is the Daemon I chose for the story, since not much is know about him, thus giving me some leg-room to work with, due to the time period of when the Great Council was called by Bloodraven. And also the fact that Aenys was exiled in Tyrosh, so there's always an off-chance they could've met.: https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Daemon_Blackfyre_(cousin_of_Maelys_I)

She wished she'd never received the letter. It didn't matter that there was nothing within it disclosing that if you didn't attend there would be no consequences. Her father was a lord, albeit a small one, but he knew it was pertinent he attend. Men like him, and those more powerful than he, were the ones the Crown was wanting to see in attendance tonight. Of course it had been important to him that she go as well. She knew it was only in hopes that she'd catch a noble lord's eye, and he might fancy her, but she couldn't have been dreading any night more than this. 

The Blackfyres had already committed three rebellions. She knew the Crown was growing weary of having to deal with a new pretender every few years, and that tonight was meant to make an example of them in front of the people. If the Blackfyres had any sympathizers left, it was the councils' hopes they wouldn't after tonight. This would be meant as a warning: this is what happens to those who rebel against the Crown and hold favor with our enemies.

After King Maekar I Targaryen had died, confusion arose as to who would succeed him. He had a number of possible heirs, but none seemed suitable for the position. 

His eldest, Prince Daeron, had been known as the Drunken; clearly not an appropriate match. Then after him came Prince Aerion. He had been a powerful knight, but also cruel and arbitrary - both men had died before their father, however. And while Aerion had had an infant son, Maegor, some had feared he would be like his father, and as he was an infant, they didn't wish to wait so long to seat an heir on the throne. 

Maekar had a third son, Aemon, who had been sent to the Citadel in his youth and emerged from it a Maester. When he had been asked to lay his duty as Maester aside, and be king instead, he declined.

Then there was Prince Aegon, who was said to be barely above a peasant, clearly another unfavorable match.

Rather than risk another Dance of the Dragons, the king's hand, Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, elected to call a Great Council to decide the matter. So, they had asked hundreds of lords, both great and small, which had included her father, to come and attend a masquerade they would be putting on. It was nothing above a farce. 

While the lords were in the backroom trying to decide on who best to put on the Iron Throne, everyone else in attendance would be in the Throne Room, where Aenys Blackfyre, another claimant who had written to the Hand from Tyrosh, hoping his words might win him the Throne, would be put on display for all to see. The poor young man had barely entered the city before the Gold Cloaks had seized him and brought him to the Red Keep. He'd been taken down to the Black Cells, where he'd stay until tonight, when he'd be brought before a crowd.

Not everyone knew this, however. But as her father was the Lord of House Rosby, and had been loyal to House Targaryen during the second Blackfyre rebellion twenty-two years earlier at Whitewalls, Brynden Rivers, the Hand, had saw him as trustworthy and reliable, and so decided to make him among those privy to the current going-ons.

She had begged her father not to make her go. She didn't want to see a poor young man who'd spent his life in exile across the Narrow Sea be chained up like an animal for all to laugh, mock, and stare at. He had been given false hope that he might've had a chance at the throne, but as soon as he'd stepped foot in King's Landing...

She understood the Crown just wanted an end to all the rebellions, and the more Blackfyres they got their hands on, the closer they got to that goal, but doing this? She wished they could just send him to the Wall instead, but that had been tried with Aegor Bittersteel, and his boat had been intercepted, and so he was taken back to Essos. 

If they had to kill him, but still make an example of him, why not just bring him out once everyone arrived and do it quickly, though? This...it was sick. 

Instead, he'd sit there the whole night to be made entertainment of.

•──────────────•♔•──────────────•

Katerina stared into the mirror on her vanity with empty eyes. Perhaps she'd be able to slip away somewhere tonight away from everyone else. The Red Keep was far too large for there for be nowhere she could be in solitude for the evening... 

She sighed and finally stood, deciding she was satisfied with the look of her, and that it was time to finally put on her dress. 

It was simple; white with bits of lace and some gold here or there. She hadn't wanted to wear anything that might bring her attention. Gods forbid tonight of all nights the people of the Crownlands finally acknowledged her. Not that she wouldn't be wearing her mask, however. 

She just couldn't be kept in that room. She'd have to join her father in making an entrance, and she'd do so reluctantly, but once he was gone to join the other lords to see to business, she would dissappear from the crowd as well.

She began to lace up her corset, and with each tug against the strings it became harder to breathe. If she thought she was suffocating now, she could only imagine how much worse it'd be once she arrived at the Red Keep. 

Once she was dressed, she took a moment to sit on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath. It was only a few hours - that was all she had to get through, and if she was able to find a place in the Keep so that she might be alone, it might go by even more quickly. She hoped desperately that it would. 

Before long there was a knock on her door, and she looked back toward it, with soft brown curls falling over her shoulders. She walked over and opened it, revealing her father standing before her dressed in a sort of tunic, with a high collar, and textured embroidery. The outer coat was armless, fitting over a longer undercoat with close-fitting sleeves underneath.

He gently took her chin in his fingertips. "You look beautiful, Katerina." 

She feigned a smile. "Thank you, Father."

He extended his arm for her with a smile, which she took, and they stepped out into the warm night air. Once they were seated inside their carriage, they started on their way.

•──────────────•♔•──────────────•

The large keep loomed over her. Her body followed after her father up the steps, but her mind was elsewhere. Once they were inside, her father led her to the Throne Room, from which you could hear music, conversation, and laughter. It sounded...happy. Perhaps they'd changed their minds, perhaps the boy wouldn't be put on display for all to laugh, mock, and-

When she entered the room, he was the first thing she saw. A man with dirtied, platinum blond hair was at the front of the room on his knees, directly to the left of the Iron Throne. Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel tears welling in her eyes when he slowly lifted his head. On his chest the Blackfyre sigil was painted - a black three-headed dragon against a red field. And across his forehead, the word 'PRETENDER' was branded in swollen red letters. A chain extended out from the wall behind him, which was tied around his thin arms to keep him in place. He looked wan, emaciated, and weak. Her heart broke for him.

She hadn't noticed she'd stopped walking until she finally came-to and felt her father lightly shaking her arm. She blinked and looked up to him. "What?"

He sighed in exasperation. "This is where I leave you, will you be capable of handling yourself tonight?"

She looked back to Aenys and then to her father once more. Did it not bother him? Had he just not noticed, or did he simply not care? Both, she assumed. Or else he wouldn't be a part of it. 

She needed to get out of this room. Quickly.

"Yes," she said with yet another false smile. "Go, I'll be fine."

He gave her a nod, although there seemed to be doubt in his eyes, and took his leave.

She looked all around her. No one seemed to care. They all laughed, and danced, talked, and ate, and if they paid Aenys any mind it was to give him judgemental glares and whisper amongst themselves at his expense. It was too much. All of it.

She began to back away, until she turned, and quickly made her way out of the door from which she'd come, and began to run. 

She was sure she looked a sight, a young lady running through the halls of the Red Keep all alone, but she couldn't care any less of what people might think of her this night.

By the time she stopped, she was sure she was stories above the gathering below. She had climbed staircase after staircase, until she found a vacant balcony, not concerning herself with whether her father would have a difficult time finding her later on. 

Let him. Let him search for hours until he exhausts himself, she thought. She had asked him not to make her come, but as per usual, it wasn't her choice; it wasn't up to her. It never was. 

She just didn't understood how not one person within that room seemed to even bat an eye at it. She wasn't so ignorant as to think any of them had love in their hearts for Blackfyres - they didn't, but he was still a person. 

What did they think the Blackfyres' sole intentions were, exactly? To eventually bring about the downfall of the Seven Kingdoms, because they were only a bastardization of House Targaryen, and so they wouldn't know how to properly rule? Because that wasn't true.

They just incorrectly assumed they had just of much of a claim to the Iron Throne as the Targaryens, by right of succession. But those who were truly legitimate would always have the stronger claim. Royal decrees didn't mean anything when there was a blood claim. 

And her father was to be a part of it all. He might not swing the sword, but he would help in passing the sentence. He was just as guilty, as far as she was concerned.

Katerina was interrupted from her thoughts, which were slowly manifesting into a seething hatred toward her father for the part he'd play in Aenys' sentencing tonight, by the sound of approaching footsteps from behind. She swiftly turned around and standing before her was a man but a few years older than her, with dark hair, and dark lavish clothing, embroidered with gold.

He wasn't familiar to her, but most highborns, which, by his choice of attire, she assumed he must've been, weren't. Most anyone may've been invited to attend tonight, but that didn't mean most anyone would.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I assumed since this was so far from the...event down below," he said with just a tiny hint of disdain that he clearly tried to hide, but was all too obvious to her. "no one would be up here."

"You and I both, and you didn't disturb me. I just, I needed to get away from it all as well," she felt sick and her hands were shaking.

This couldn't become her life, being a part of things like this. She wasn't like the rest of them...she couldn't be. 

"It bothers you?" he asked, surprised.

For a moment she felt offended, and then she understood why that might be seen as surprising. No one else seemed impacted by it, so why would she be?

"Yes, it does. It's no secret most Westerosi hold no love in their hearts for Blackfyres, but what they're doing to him is...reprehensible, to say the least. He was lied to; told he'd be given safe passage to come and make a claim, and was then taken into custody the moment he stepped foot in this city. It- it isn't right."

The man came to stand by her and rested his forearms against the balcony before him. "No, it isn't."

His knuckles were white and his jaw was clenched. "I neglected to ask your name, how rude of me," he stated flatly without looking up to her.

He seemed just as unhappy as she to be here. She wondered if his father was a lord who had forced him into attendance as well. "Katerina, and yours?" she finally removed her mask. She had to wear one everyday, but she could take this one off for just tonight. 

"Daemon." He slowly removed his as well, but never met her eyes. 

The more he spoke, the more she noticed just the slightest hint of a foreign accent. "You're not from Westeros." Her face warmed when she realized that she'd just blurted that out, as if it were any of her business. Before she had a chance to apologize for being so incredibly rude, however, he responded. 

"No," he smirked, "Tyrosh is where I've spent most of my life."

"Why would you want to come here?" she'd like to be anywhere else but here herself. She couldn't understand why someone like him, someone who'd seen - been in another part of the world - would want to be here. 

"I didn't. A relative of mine did. They asked me to come with them." 

"Where are they now?" Gods could she ask anymore questions that were none of her business to know the answer to? She was nervous, and she was trying to keep the conversation going, but she was being rude by prying. 

He remained silent for a moment. "Dying."

She opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, unsure what to say, until she said the only thing she knew to. "I'm so sorry."

"You and I both," he repeated her words from earlier back to her.

"It's ironic to me - this whole night. While they torture and make a spectacle of Aenys, and call him a pretender, even going so far as to literally brand him as one, everyone else stands by and thinks they're so above him. Above House Blackfyre as a whole. They're all pretenders. Maybe all of us are. We put on our expensive clothes, and wear our house names like armor, like they mean something, like they're more than just that - a name. But It's not a name that makes into you something, it's what you do."

He turned to her with a slight smile. "You're unlike any lady I've ever met."

"That's just what you think. Women are more than what men make us out to be. We all have strong opinions. We all know more than just sewing, cooking, and childcare. Sometimes we're just afraid to say it. So we stay silent, and we're made out to be pretty little idiots."

"But you didn't, stay silent I mean."

"Maybe because you're a stranger who I know if I speak my mind to, won't warrant repercussions against me."

He smiled at that; she trusted him. "So, why did you come tonight, if you dislike it here so much?" 

"My father didn't exactly give me another choice. And I could ask you the same thing," she said while turning to him.

"I have...business to attend to, here, tonight."

The sound of laughter came from down below and when they both peered over the balcony a couple was exiting the keep. They climbed into their carriage, and off they rode.

Daemon stepped away from the balcony and started heading back inside without another word.

She felt something deflate inside of her at him leaving so abruptly, but she decided to follow suit herself. Perhaps her father would be finished with his own "business", and they'd be able to go home now.

Once Katerina had finally reached the ground floor, she headed back into the Throne Room. Aenys was still where he had been since the beginning of the night, but he looked so much more exhausted now. His head was bowed in front of him and his blond hair formed a curtain in front of his face.

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob and turned her back to the room. She couldn't let them see her cry. She'd be thought a sympathizer. 

After a few moments, and many deep breaths to prevent some sort of breakdown, she finally composed herself, and turned back around.

When she looked toward the back left side of the throne a group of men were emerging from the council chamber, one of which was her father. Relief flooded through her. She could finally go home and never come back to this place ever again.

She started heading toward him to meet him halfway, and when they reached one another she was the first to speak. "Can we go home now?"

"You don't want to stay awhile longer? Did you not meet anyone, or did you stay by yourself all night? I'd worried you might do that..."

Katerina thought back to Daemon, and how he'd just left without even saying so much as "bye". Then again, he didn't owe her anything. They'd just been two strangers passing in the night. It did make her feel a bit better to know there was at least one other person here who didn't agree with what was being done to poor Aenys. "I talked, with one person."

"And?"

Gods, was that all she was to him - a pawn? Something to be sold off for him to solidify allies, or bring him more benefits? How was she supposed to answer his question, anyway? She couldn't tell him the only person she talked to was probably the only person in attendance aside from her who held just as strong a disdain for this event. 

As soon as she opened her mouth, a man from up on the platform that had silver hair just like Aenys, a red winestain birthmark on the right side of his face that extended from his throat up to his right cheek, and a missing eye with his hair barely covering it, began to speak. Brynden Rivers. Also commonly known by the moniker of Bloodraven, as it was said by some that his portwine stain birthmark resembled that of a raven drawn in blood. She didn't see it, herself. 

"My lords, and ladies, we've gathered you all here tonight so all may see what becomes of pretenders who try and lay claim to what isn't theirs. The same goes for their sympathizers and defenders," he looked down to Aenys then, who hung his head in shame and Katerina felt a pain go through her chest for him, "a bastard is a bastard. And Blackfyres will NEVER take the throne. If they wish to try, they may, but this," he unsheathed his sword from the scabbard at his side, "is what happens when-"

"Golden Company!" 

Men from all over the room drew their swords, some pointing them toward Brynden, and others holding them toward any highborn near them. 

Katerina scanned the room for who the yell had come from, her heart beating wildly now, and a man brushed past her and her father. No, not just a man, Daemon, who she'd been talking to but a few minutes earlier.

He reached up to his head, and began to pull at the front of his hair, until the dark-haired wig he had donned was removed to reveal long, beautiful, silver hair. Another Blackfyre. 

Slowly it all began to fall into place. The relative Daemon come from Tyrosh with had been Aenys. And he said he'd been dying, which wasn't entirely false... He was clearly very sick. It would only be a matter of time before his body shut down from what had to be malnutrition and dehydration. 

And the business he had come to attend to - this must've been it. What had started out as Aenys trying to gain a claim to the throne, had turned into Daemon trying to save his life.

The next Blackfyre Rebellion had just begun, and there was a chance it was going to be fought right in this very room tonight. 

Daemon stopped a few feet away from the steps leading up to the Iron Throne and rested his hand against the pommel of his sword. "No one has to die tonight, Brynden. Let him go; let Aenys go, and we'll return to Tyrosh from which we came, along with the Golden Company."

The Golden Company hated the Targaryens just as much as the Blackfyres, if not more. They were exiles just like them, wanting nothing more than to come home.

Brynden looked around the room and then back to Daemon. "The Golden Company? I see a few dozen men at best. You're not fooling anyone by-"

"I'm their Captain-General. My men go where I tell them to go. And they are "sympathizers", as you so called them, after all. They have more than enough reason to stand behind me and Aenys both. The Golden Company is comprised of over ten-thousand men." He briefly looked around him. "I don't see anywhere near that number of men in here, do you?" he cocked his head to the side. 

There was no telling where the rest of his men were. They could be waiting just outside the doors of the Red Keep, or still over in Tyrosh. The question was: was Brynden willing to take a gamble on the latter being the case?

"You do as I say and give me back Aenys, and we'll leave this city. Never to return."

Brynden began to once again reach for his sword, and Daemon quickly drew his, pointing it toward him. "Careful now, Rivers. Wouldn't want to do anything...foolish."

"I let you both go, how am I to know you're telling the truth; that you'll even keep your word?"

"We don't have the numbers to take you, or the Seven Kingdoms. You and I both know that. Aenys came for a chance at a better life. Now you're ready to take a chance at any life at all away from him. He's my family. I wasn't about to let him go into a pit of vipers alone. We mean you no harm - any of you, but we're not above bloodshed, if that's what you want."

Brynden looked around for a moment, at all the swords standing at every wall and corner of the room, and then Daemon spoke again.

"We may not have the numbers to take the kingdom, but you know we have the numbers to take you, and everyone in here tonight. Be smart about this. You wouldn't have been made the Hand if you weren't."

"I let you both walk out of here, and you could show up a few months from now with an army larger than Westeros has ever seen."

"And where exactly am I going to get those many men? You think an army of bedslaves will win me, Aenys, or any other man the throne? Or maybe you're thinking of the Unsullied, as if I have enough coin to buy an army of that size and caliber.  
"You finished negotiations in the council chamber, which means you chose who the new king will be. Perhaps we should wait for him, and let him decide things instead."

Brynden began to shake his head in uncertainty. Things were about to go south, Katerina just knew it.

"House Blackfyre may still yet live, but Aenys will bleed. You said I was smart, well here it is, I let you go, others will think they have a claim. I can't let that happen."

In one swift motion, Brynden had swung his sword, and Aenys' head was removed from his body. Katerina screamed, and then chaos broke out.

"Seize the nobles and take them to the Black Cells! Kill any man who fights you, but harm no woman, or child!" Daemon yelled. 

Katerina's father took her into his arms, and began hurrying her toward the door to take them out of the Throne Room, but they were stopped by a sword. Katerina shrieked, and then looked back over her shoulder. 

He was her only hope. Maybe her words had moved him; made him understand she wasn't like those who would want nothing more than to see his head on a pike.

"Daemon!" it took but a moment and he was looking back to her.

He started her way, while shouting. "Take your sword off her, now!"

"Please, please let us go. My father, we, we need to leave, please, Daemon-"

He put his hand to her cheek for a moment, and she finally got to look into his eyes. She now understood why he'd refused to meet her gaze on the balcony. Violet. They were beautiful, but only two houses had eyes that color. 

Daemon then gave her a nod of his head and looked to the man who just a moment before had had his sword pointed to her father's throat. "Let them go, but no one else leaves."

The man followed his orders, and opened the door to allow them exit. Once it was closed behind them, Katerina could have sworn the screaming only got louder.

•──────────────•♔•──────────────•

The next morning, her father received word that Aegon Targaryen, dubbed "The Unlikely", would be the new king, and Brynden would be sent to the Wall for having killed Aenys. If he'd just done what Daemon had suggested - wait until the new king could make a decision about what to do - no one would've had to die. He himself would've never been sent to the Wall. Instead, he acted rashly, and unthoughtfuly. And this was his penance. 

Katerina hadn't slept that night. She'd kept replaying Aenys' execution over and over again in her head. She'd never forget it. She knew that.

There had been no news of Daemon and the Golden Company, though, other than that a few of them had been killed, but most of them, along with their Captain-General, had gotten away.

She was glad for that. And she eventually realized something, she sympathized with him and Aenys both; they all just wanted better lives. 

They'd came back to Westeros to attempt and find one. Perhaps she'd go to Essos and see what the cities across the Narrow Sea had to offer her. Someday, she thought. Maybe even soon.


End file.
